Clara could no longer contain her frustration.“This is unbelievable,” she said sharply, pacing slightly behind the couch. “We are standing here with two certified physicians, and you’re allowing this… this guesswork to continue?”Her voice carried disbelief and anger, rising with every word as she struggled to accept what she was witnessing. The situation, in her view, had already crossed the line from unusual to unacceptable.The doctor nodded in agreement.“This is precisely what happens when emotional decision-making overrides clinical judgment,” he added. “We are watching a critical case being turned into experimentation.”His tone was firm, controlled, and clearly rooted in professional authority, as though he were drawing a boundary that should not be crossed under any circumstances.Clara pointed toward Donald.“He is not even using half the things he asked for,” she said. “A spoon, a bowl, a napkin—what exactly is that supposed to achieve? Healing?”The physician shook his he

The chaos in the lounge grew louder by the second, swelling like a wave that refused to break and instead kept building pressure against everything it touched. What had begun as murmurs and scattered questions had now turned into overlapping voices, sharp footsteps, and the constant scraping movement of bodies shifting in confusion. The air itself felt different—heavier, almost suffocating—as more guests poured in from the corridor and adjoining hall, drawn irresistibly by the sound of distress. Some had been curious at first, others alarmed, but none of them arrived with clarity. They came into a situation already fractured, already unstable, already tipping beyond control. The once controlled VIP space no longer resembled anything close to order. Chairs were pushed unevenly, people stood too close together, and the usual calm sophistication of the lounge had been replaced by something raw and unfiltered. The lighting seemed harsher now, reflecting off anxious faces and widening eye

Donald did not say anything to the people still lingering near him, offering apologies. He simply looked at them—quietly, steadily, without expression that could be easily interpreted as acceptance or rejection. That silence settled over the group in a way that words would not have. It was not hostile, but it was firm, and somehow that made it heavier than anger would have been. It left no space for negotiation, no opening for reassurance.The first man who had spoken stepped back awkwardly, suddenly unsure of himself in a way he had not been moments earlier.“I… I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice lower now, less certain.Donald said nothing.Another person tried, stepping forward just slightly as if to bridge the discomfort.“We didn’t know the full situation,” she added quickly, her tone carrying a mixture of regret and justification.Still no response.One by one, the apologizing crowd began to shrink back. Their earlier confidence—what had driven them to act, to accuse, to interve

Clara stood frozen for a moment, watching her sister refuse to back down. The tension in her posture had shifted from shock into frustration again, but it was no longer simple anger. Beneath it now sat something more restrained and uneasy—unease, even fear, about how far the situation could spiral if no one intervened with caution, logic, or control. The room itself felt like it was balancing on a thin edge, and every word spoken risked pushing it further in one direction or another.She took a careful step forward, as though trying to re-enter a conversation that was already slipping beyond her influence and becoming harder to redirect with reason alone. The distance between them did not feel physical anymore; it felt like a widening gap in understanding.“Evelyn, please listen to yourself,” Clara said firmly, her voice steadier than her expression. “Even if this man somehow managed to stabilize him, that does not mean he understands the full situation.”Evelyn did not respond immedi

As soon as the boy began to cough again, the sound was no longer mild or controlled. It did not resemble the earlier, weaker reaction that had followed his first recovery, the one that had given them all a fragile sense of relief. This time, it deepened almost instantly, rough and forceful, dragging up from somewhere far more intense within his chest. It was the kind of sound that did not belong in a quiet room, a sound that seemed to scrape against the air itself, tearing through the brief calm that had settled moments before. The sharpness of it made everyone tense without thinking, their bodies reacting before their minds could catch up.Then his body bent forward sharply, as though something inside him had suddenly taken control.“Eliot!” Evelyn cried, her voice breaking as she rushed toward him without hesitation.Her movement was immediate, instinctive, driven by fear rather than thought. Before anyone could reach her or stop her, before anyone could even fully process what was